


Kinktober 2019

by Perlenprinz



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater, Stranger Things (TV 2016), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Daddy Kink, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Other, Rough Sex, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, The Upside Down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-25 18:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20916311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perlenprinz/pseuds/Perlenprinz
Summary: I'll try Kinktober again! Let's see how long I'll last this time. (The fact that I'm already behind 3 days probably speaks for itself  orz)Each fill will be a chapter and I'll title each chapter with the prompt I chose + the ship I wrote it for. Will add tags as I continue adding chapters.I'm doing a mixture of drawn and written prompts this year, so there will be several days missing here. You can check out the drawings for those missing days on my Twitter @Perlenprinz if you want to!Enjoy!





	1. Day 03 - Tentacles

Billy Hargrove knows fear.

He knows in and out how it manifests on other people's faces. Knows how it makes Max's eyes go wide, makes her shoulders stiff with tension every time she looks at him.  
He knows fear the way a terrorist knows death. It's all around him, created and caused by him.

But Billy Hargrove himself was not scared.

Until this moment.

Something hitches in his chest, a breath or a beat of his heart. These eyes seem to bore into him, see right through him, right to his core.  
And how could he think for even a second to be able to hide anything from them?

After all, these were his own eyes staring at him, his own face.  
His own body, standing right in front of him.

It's not like seeing himself in a mirror. It's like his reflection staring back from the surface of a murky lake - it's rippled and wavy and imperfect and god only knew what lay beyond.  
It - _he_ \- started moving towards Billy, step after leisurely step, all the confidence and swagger Billy always exuded but had lost completely in this very moment. He backs away, or tries to. He gets about two, maybe three steps back before he bumps against his car.

The creature keeps approaching. Keeps staring him down. There is something familiar to the expression, something beyond the cold stare.

But Billy doesn't have the time figure it out. He moves to bolt around the car, tries to at least, but his exit is already cut off. The _thing_ that had stolen his appearance had moved too close by now. To get away from it, Billy would have to fight it, and a feeling deep in his gut told him that it would be a horrendous idea to touch it.

"What do you want?!" Billy screamed at it, in a hope of at least stopping its' movement towards himself, but he had no such luck. Instead this underlying _thing_ in its' gaze only seemed to grow more intense.  
With only about a foot left between him and that thing, Billy finally realized what it was.

It was the same gaze the ladies at the pool threw his way. That same leering, the same lecherous stare.

_Hunger._

It leans forward, reaching out a hand towards Billy. It's neither a slow nor elegant movement and all Billy can do is suck in a deep breath before the hand is placed on his chest.

He feels the icey cold, first. His head drops down to look - and he immediately wished he hadn't.  
Because now he does not only have to feel, but _see_ the hand - this things hand, _his_ hand - dissolving into a myriad of small tendrils right where it lays on his chest. They start spreading rapidly, gliding along his chest down to his waist and abdomen or up towards his throat and face in a matter of seconds.

"Wha-", he utters, but it's a stupid mistake. The vines immediately seize the opportunity presented to them and slither inside of Billy's mouth.

He tries to shake them off immediately, rip them away from himself, fight or flight instinct finally kicking in and flooding his body with the necessary adrenaline to break free.

But it was no use. The tentacles had him tightly in their grip, meanwhile having grown thick and strong the more of his otherworldly counterpart seemed to disintegrate into them. The creature was vines and tendrils and tentacles - Billy did not know how else to define the slimy things writhing all over him, encapsulating and invading his body - turned into them from the shoulder down.

The rest still appeared to be human, still appeared to be _him_.

The otherness of this being was only further underlined by the monstrosity it was beginning to turn into.

He couldn't break free from them. Billy thought he was going to be sick.

"I have waited for you, Billy."

The figure in front of him moves it's full lips, but the words echo in his head, a deep growling.

Billy lifted his gaze defiantly, tries, again to pull himself free of the vines, but they are wrapped too tightly around him, he can feel them twisting tighter around his wrists, around his waist to keep him in place.

He is fully and completely defenseless, maybe for the first time in his life. He is made vulnerable and destructible in front of this monster that keeps staring holes into him with eyes that simultaneously are and aren't his own.

His heart is a hummingbird within the cage of his chest, fluttering an unsteady pulse through his immobilized body.

Billy Hargrove knows fear, and, _god, _he is terrified now.

"Billy", the creature starts again, that intense and deep voice drowning out every single thought in his mind. "Billy, I have waited for you."

For a moment they just stare at each other, nervous eyes into blank ones. Billy can feel the tentacles slithering all over his body, traveling over his throat, over his bobbing Adam's apple in a slimy and wet trail.

"I can give you what you want"

The tendrils in his mouth, still on the smaller side, start pulling on him, angling open his mouth until it won't open any further. They hold him there.

"What you're too ashamed to admit you want"

A vine, without much prelude, pushes into his pried-open mouth. It's a thick, slimy, writhing thing and Billy has to fight back his gag reflex. It's all he _can_ fight. He doesn't have the leverage to pull back, to get rid of the thing. He doesn't even have the capability of biting down.

The creature in front of him watches, blank and enraptured, up until the very moment it twisted it's - _his_ \- face into a sneer. The grin, despite using a boy's mouth has nothing human to it. It's like it was cut into its' face. His own eyes looked manically at him.

A horrific shiver speeds down Billy's spine.

And then it falls apart.

The monster's borrowed face dissolves into tendrils, it's body no longer seems to be a solid thing. Instead vines push through and tear to shreds the clothes it had worn, just to reveal more and more of these horrific, wriggling things.

There was an overwhelmingly amount of them, and they approached him quicker than he had time to flinch.

By the time they had reached him, it was too late anyway.

The tentacles were everywhere. All over his body, everywhere inside of him. They were stretching him open and filling him up.

He couldn't hear, couldn't see. All he felt, inside and out, was the creature.

It speaks to him again; a sensation more than a sound:

_"You are mine now."_


	2. Day 05 - Asphyxiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kavinsky likes Sex the way he likes everything: teetering on the edge of death.

In a nonsexual context, this would have been everything Ronan ever wanted.  
His hands wrapped so tightly around Kavinsky's neck that he felt his throat working on all these attempted little half-gasps, the guttural choking noises the backdrop to this scene.

But as it was, they were naked, and Ronan was balls deep inside of Kavinsky, and Kavinsky, despite the extremely unhealthy shade his face had gone, smiled blissfully and euphorically, giving an inaudible moan with every thrust.

Ronan could not even enjoy that the Sunglasses had been knocked off of his face in the process of all this; instead of making Kavinsky vulnerable, the unshielded gaze of these dark, piercing, dying eyes made Ronan feel the part.

He lets go of Kavinsky's throat.

  
For a second after that, a potent silence hung between them. Then it's too much noise at once.

Kavinsky starts coughing violently, convulsions ripping through his chest, making his whole body spasm.

Ronan comes into him almost immediately, not able to withstand the way Kavinsky squeezes around him, not able to keep the moan from escaping his mouth.

His hands dig hard enough into Kavinsky's bony waist to bruise him for a week.

When Ronan looks down on the mess beneath him, Kavinsky's stomach is covered with his own milky cum.  
He's panting heavily, splayed out like he's entirely boneless. His eyes are open, but half lidded. He's seeing stars.

Ronan turns away from him as his eyes catch on the angry red mark starting to bloom on his pale throat.

"Lynch" Kavinsky finally croaked, trying to make it sound like his throat wasn't on fire with the pain, trying to make it sound like his voice wasn't fucked up by it all. "Why the fuck did you stop?"

"I'm not_ killing_ you." Ronan exhaled, trying to make it sound like he was ruffled due to the physical exertion of fucking Kavinsky, and not ruffled by the thought of killing him.

They both weren't doing very good Jobs of it.

"Pussy." Kavinsky finally rasped, condescending and disdainful.

He actually did sound disappointed.


	3. Day 09 - Daddy

Dabi, Hawks found out one evening, was 27 years old.

It doesn't seem important - and it probably wasn't - which is why the information wasn't particularly hard to coax out of him.

But it mattered to Hawks. Mattered because of Dabi's eyes.

Because Hawks was a very attentive man, with an eye for detail.

Because Hawks was a die-hard fan.

And he'd recognize these eyes anywhere.

_Endeavor._

Once he's made the connection, it really does seem quite obvious. The quirk matches. The age, too.

Endeavor's oldest son. 27 Years old.

Hawks was 22.

Hawks was younger than the oldest son of the man he was trying to seduce. And he was gonna milk that for what it was worth.

Hawks wasn't subtle with his attempt of landing with the older man. And Enji noticed.

Of course he did. He was neither blind nor stupid.

But he never warranted Hawks' advances with any sort of reaction. In the end, it was rows and rows of teasing and taunting. Coquetting.

_Flirting._

Hawks could tell that Enji noticed and merely elected to ignore the fact. Ignore him, mostly, in every aspect that was not strictly business related.

But Hawks knew the kind of man Enji was. He admired him, yes, adored him, but he knew of his flaws, too. He knew of the things he had done to his family, to his wife.

His son.

Knew of the anger and destruction one could summon out of him if one pressed the right buttons.

Hawks wanted him to explode, wanted his fury and rage if it was all he could have.

Any excuse to feel his touch.

So he tried to find out what would push him over the edge. Attempted to play him like a fiddle, to break his forced calm.

To see his idol for who he truly was.

The Devil.

The closest Hawk had ever come to make Endeavor explode was calling him 'old man'. The way his face had twisted in disdain, the way tension had been so visible within his broad body, coiling to the point where it's just about to break out of him.

But he had forced it back, summoned what little tact and self-control he possessed.

Hawks knew he had been close, though.

All he would need was another attempt.

The chance comes soon enough, the perk of being colleagues. They had worked in Endeavor's office long enough that they decided to order in dinner.

Eating together - more often than not inside of this office - always gave them some reasonably peaceful silence. Sometimes they talked, but most of the time they didn't. Enji made it painfully clear that all he saw between them was a work collaboration.

It was quiet between them now. Endeavor looked intently at some files.

Hawks looked equally as focused at Endeavor, allowing his hungry eyes to linger, now the he was unobserved.

Hawks opened his mouth to devour what was left of his burger, but he imagined his lips to close around something else.

Enji was still focused on the file and his coffee.

"Say, Endeavor-san" Hawks starts before fully swallowing the last bite of Burger, earning himself a haughty and disdainful glance from Enji. "You're always here with me so late. Don't your kids miss you?"

Hawks looks at Enji attentively and he catches the slight twitch of his piercing eyes.

Their eyes meet. Endeavors gaze is destructive, burning an icy hole right through him.

Hawks doesn't even think to flinch away.

Their gazes are locked like this for a while, before Enji makes a show of dragging his gaze slowly, _contemptuously_ away from him.

"Why would they?" He answers finally, after what felt like several minutes of silence. Of course, part of Endeavors troubled home life was public knowledge, if not officially so then at least in rumors so persistent that they have long since been accepted as truth by those who know them. "They're old enough to be okay on their own"

"Oh? How old are the four of them?" Hawks chirped in with a slight smirk.

"_Three._" Enji corrected him immediately, too quick for a casual rebuttal. "I have three children"

Perfect. He was falling for Hawks' ploy, hook, line and sinker. Hawks grin got wider, just a little bit.

"Oops." Hawks sought out the older man's eyes, painfully aware of the fire he was playing with. "My bad"

Endeavor stares at him, his young face, his warm eyes that were chilling nonetheless. There was something risky about him that told Enji to stay away.

But he'd be damned if he flinched away from such a little brat.

"My youngest son is 15, my middle son is 19. And my Daughter is 22."

Even his words are betraying him, Hawks observes. The nuance behind youngest and middle son, implying the existence of an eldest son.

He'd only have to press that little bit further to have Enji talk about his eldest, about Dabi, he's certain of it.

But not even Hawks is willing to risk this double undercover mission, just to get a rise out of the object of his desires.

Plus, it looks like he doesn't need to.

"22? Funny coincidence~ That's my age as well."

Endeavor doesn't react. He deems the conversation over, it seems, or at least he wills it so by withholding any sort of reaction or reply.

Hawks can feel that he's precariously close to his breaking point, so he gets up from where he had been sitting and casually saunters over to Endeavor. The older man sits, professionally and domineeringly behind his desk, the wide stance of his legs stable and secure, as if nothing could shake him.

But it's all a farce, Hawks can tell. The twitching of his eyebrows, the tension in his shoulders.

His knuckles white from how tight his fists are balled.

The smile on Hawk's face, in contrast, is unwavering. Corners of his mouth sharp like icicles and his eyes a place where light goes to die.

"Isn't it funny? I could have been your kid in another life."

The distance between the two of them is almost fully closed now. Hawks has moved behind Enji's desk, and Enji has swiveled his chair around in response. His calm was forced, and poorly so. He was a ticking bomb.

"I wonder what it would have been like, having you as my dad."

The grin almost splits Hawks' face now.

Before Endeavor has any chance to stop him, Hawks plops himself down onto the older man's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. Their faces are only inches apart.

"Say, _Daddy..._ what would you have done with me?"

It takes a second and then Endeavor is _alight,_ flames burning hotly and brightly enough to illuminate the entire room.

The bomb went off.

Everything after that is a quick and violent blur. Hawks feels the scorching heat on his throat before he feels the pressure of strong, thick fingers. His body forced into an unnatural angle when Endeavor slams his back onto the heavy oak desk, with enough force to make it feel like the edge of the desk was going to break his back right then and there.

His wings are squeezed uncomfortably beneath the weight of himself and Endeavor on top of him, all the while pressing on his throat, flames licking against the tender skin.

Hawks wonders if it will leave a mark.

He wonders if it will last.

Nothing but a pathetic, keening croak manages to escapes his throat while Endeavors large hand roams all over him, and yet there is that same wide, unfaltering grin on his flushed face.

Because in the end it doesn't matter that Endeavor wrecks him, ravishes him, burns him, lifts Hawks up and tosses him around in a rage-fueled frenzy as if he weighed nothing.

Everything is just the way it has always been - Endeavor a Toy in Hawks' hands.


End file.
